Where I Should Be
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'This is not where I should be right now.'" Companion to The Moments We Touch. Azusa's perspective on the Kishin's revival and defeat and the aftermath. Overlaps The Person I Might Become and The Rule of a God.
1. Return

Azusa arrives at the cafe before Marie does, as she knew she would. Azusa always arrives to events two minutes early while Marie is consistently between five and twenty minutes behind schedule. This time it's seven. Azusa has taken the tea leaves out of her drink and it is nearly cool enough to sip by the time the other weapon comes in the door, looking windswept and panicked with her tardiness as she usually does.

Azusa takes a minute to watch the other woman from her mostly-covered position behind the counter. They've not been apart long, only a few months, but the other weapon's features have still taken on the odd unfamiliarity of an old friend absent too long. Her nose is a little wider than Azusa recalls, her hair slightly less perfectly gold, her hips not quite a perfect hourglass.

Then Marie catches sight of Azusa, lifts a hand to wave, and smiles, and the expression breaks all over her face like the dawn and she is _exactly_ as beautiful as Azusa remembers.

Azusa gestures towards the counter and Marie goes to order her drink before she joins the crossbow. Azusa has had years of practice at steadying her voice and controlling her gaze - it is just a crush, after all, not the end of the world or anything - but her pulse is fluttering with the unprecedented novelty of reunion and the moments to compose herself are much appreciated. By the time Marie comes over with a paper cup of coffee, Azusa can take in the smattering of freckles over her nose and the barely lopsided curve of her lips with entire equanimity.

"Hey there," she says, and Marie sets her cup down on the table and comes around the other side to wrap Azusa in a one-armed hug. _That_ does fluster her slightly - Azusa's not sure what to do with her arms, and Marie holds on longer than she expects - but the hammer is smiling when she pulls away, and then she goes to sit on the other side of the table and Azusa catches her breath.

"It's good to see you," Marie says, blowing across the milk foam over her latte. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you quite so soon but it is a pleasant side effect of being called back."

"Mm," Azusa offers noncommittally. It _is_ good to see Marie again, better than she wants to admit, but she was ready to move away and move on and settle down with someone _not_ perpetually in love with the unattainable, and Marie's golden hair and shy smile are reopening a wound that has barely had time to scab over.

"Not that the rest of it isn't frustrating," the hammer goes on. "I don't know how I'm supposed to find someone to settle down with here in Death City. I lived here for over a decade with no luck and I'm not getting any younger!"

"You might have had more success if you weren't so hung up on your meister," Azusa points out reasonably. "I'm sure there are plenty of men our age who would be delighted with your attention."

"But I have to go back to Oceania after this is over!" Marie wails. "I can't start a relationship that I'll just have to end in a few weeks!"

"You're as rational as always." Azusa tries her tea, manages a sip without scalding her tongue.

Marie looks up away from her coffee and up at the crossbow, and after a moment she laughs. "You're making fun of me. Well, I was getting too serious out on my own anyway."

"I'm sure you were." Azusa manages a smile. "No luck with the husband search, then?"

"No." Marie sighs, throws herself back in her chair, and spins her cup idly between her palms. "No time to find anyone, and no one who was all that promising anyway. I know there's not a lot of selection here, but at least this way I can stay focused on the task at hand and get back to Oceania faster!"

Azusa doubts that very much but refrains from saying so. Marie sighs with the satisfaction of someone who has entirely solved a difficult problem and sips at her coffee. The foam catches on her lip and Azusa tracks the motion of her tongue as she absently licks it off.

"What about you?" Marie is all focused now, of course on the one subject not to Azusa's liking. "Any prospectives in your new home?"

"Not anymore." Azusa's tea is really quite good and taking a sip gives her a chance to stall for time. "I was seeing someone for a few weeks, but that didn't work out."

Rose had been very hot, equally hot-tempered, and not at all pleased to find out Azusa was still nursing a schoolgirl crush on her best friend, even when Azusa tried to explain she barely spoke to Marie anymore. Azusa knew that particular relationship was never going to last very long, though, and the stress of avoiding mentioning Marie's name in all of her Academy stories wasn't worth the extra days or weeks of sex she would have gotten in return. As it turned out, getting called back had happened much more quickly than Azusa anticipated, and that would have been the death knell if not something sooner.

Besides, Marie's ever-friendly companionship isn't the same as a relationship, but at least single Azusa can quietly admire her best friend's attractiveness without the least bit of guilt. There is that to be gained from the situation, if nothing else.

Marie's face starts to drop into sympathy and Azusa cuts in before she has a chance to say anything. "Don't apologize."

"I wasn't -" Marie starts.

"Yes, you were. It wasn't your fault, it's not a particularly sore spot for me, and you have nothing at all to be sorry for."

"But-"

"No." Azusa nudges the coffee cup towards her best friend. "Drink your coffee. I'm glad to be back to help deal with the current crisis, although those here _should_ have been able to handle it. Between all of us we'll be able to handle the Kishin effectively."

Marie heaves a sigh but does take a drink of her coffee, and if Azusa watches the way her lips curve around the edge of the cup the other weapon never sees it.


	2. Favor

Azusa doesn't volunteer her story when Marie comes back. By the time the other weapon comes into the Death Room the crossbow is over what was mostly a bad fright and is alert enough to be relieved that Marie has successfully brought Stein back. She's looking at the blond when Death Scythe startles with relief at Stein's return, sees Marie not-quite flinch at Stein's reaction. She would feel bad on the hammer's part were it not entirely, infinitely better that she finally _know_.

Azusa tries to give Marie space, but when the sky clears and the sunlight floods in through the hole in the roof she only holds back for a few minutes before her feet pull her toward the other woman like they are connected on a line. Marie is standing with Crona, a hand against the child's narrow shoulders, but she is looking at Stein with an expression that screams of the years of pining if there were anyone looking but Azusa.

"It's better that you know," Azusa offers as she draws closer. Marie keeps watching the meister for a moment longer, then pulls her gaze away with visible effort and smiles at her friend. Her lips are trembling and her uncovered eye is liquid gold with unshed tears, but the smile is genuine for all that.

"I didn't know," she says unnecessarily. Crona glances at Azusa and slides away; Marie lets him go with a last lingering pat against his shoulders. Azusa is impressed with his reading of the situation; he's already better than Marie herself has ever been. "I had no idea."

"It wasn't you," Azusa offers. The blue sky is catching off Marie's hair and the liquid in her eye and she is _sparkling_, it is really absurd but very beautiful.

Marie glances at her. "Did you know?"

"No," Azusa starts, then pauses to clarify. "Not at first. I thought he was just a sociopath until I saw them together when we were called back to the Academy."

"You saw it _then_?"

Azusa does _not_ give Marie a pitying look. She _does_ congratulate herself on her restraint in not doing so, though. "Of course. I'm sorry you didn't. Would it have helped?"

"Yes," Marie starts, then glances back at Stein and sighs. "No. Maybe. I don't know. It might have."

"When did you put it together?" Azusa asks. It comes out cold in spite of her best attempts at sympathy, but Marie laughs and shrugs like it was the most delicately phrased inquiry.

"I was in his head, back with Medusa." She is looking at Stein's back, standing close by Death Scythe, and Azusa is watching her watch him. "He had this radio, a hallucination of course, but it was playing Spirit's voice on repeat, all these things I've never heard Spirit say but it was definitely his voice, and the fact that Stein was listening to _Spirit's_ voice as the sound of his sanity…" She sighs and that's when she looks back. "It just...explained a lot that never made sense to me. Like the answer to a riddle, you know?"

Azusa does know. She nods without speaking and Marie continues.

"It just all fit together and it seemed very beautiful for a minute, Stein loving Spirit and me loving him and _fixing_ him so they could be together again, even though it was the end of hope for me." She laughs. "But I didn't have any to begin with. I guess that was kind of the point." She glances back at the two men, where Spirit is struggling into his black jacket and Stein is looking at the weapon like he is fragile and precious and perfect. Azusa has to look away. Watching Stein is too much like looking in a mirror.

She clears her throat. "What did he do?"

"Nothing." Marie smiles and looks back down at her hands in front of her. "I don't know what he would have done if he had. Apologizing wouldn't really be his style."

"No." Azusa would look away if she could but she can't make herself do it.

Marie looks at her and Azusa can see the moment her eyes focus on the other weapon, the moment the meister leaves her thoughts.

"You're hurt." She reaches out to touch the rumpled collar of the crossbow's shirt. It's not romantic, just the casual closeness of a friend. It's still hard for Azusa to keep from jerking backwards like Marie is threatening her with an open flame. "What happened?"

Azusa doesn't meet Marie's gaze, looks at the curl of golden hair across her head instead, the way it catches under the strap of her eyepatch. "Kishin Asura attempted to kill Kid and I." She tips her head in the direction of Death Scythe. "Lord Death and Death Scythe intercepted the hit, but it did some damage regardless. I got knocked out briefly."

"Are you okay?" Marie looks up into her face. Her hold is still on Azusa's shirt, her face is _very_ close.

"Yes." Azusa looks up and away, away from Marie's hair, and carefully reaches up to pull the hammer's hand free. "I'm fine."

Marie reclaims her hand and takes a half-step back and Azusa can look at her again. The blond sighs and there is the weight of years of futile dreams in the sound.

"I have a huge favor to ask of you." She swallows. "I'm still living at Stein's lab right now. I'll start looking for my own apartment right away but...I don't really want to get in his way, you know?"

"And you don't want to be around if Death Scythe comes over."

Marie laughs and there is some real humor in the sound. "Yeah. That too. But I don't have anywhere else to _go_ right now and -"

"Stay on my couch." Azusa is speaking before she has really thought it through, but she can't take back the words after she's said them. The offer is entirely valid, if the desire underneath is not, and the way Marie's face lights up is worth the self-imposed silence.

"Really?"

"Yes." Azusa shouldn't agree so fast. Marie deserves to know how _she_ feels first; there's a certain guilty sense of taking advantage of her friend in the agreement if she _doesn't_ know. But that's been present their whole relationship,and Azusa doesn't _want_ to tell her, and Marie needs her _help_.

She recognizes it as justification but recognition is as far it goes. And really that's been the premise of their whole friendship, and Azusa can't find it in her to regret that.


	3. Pity

It only takes Marie an hour or two to condense her various belongings at Azusa's into a couple cardboard boxes in preparation of moving into her own apartment. Azusa watches her rather than helping because she doesn't want to let on that she knows exactly where everything Marie has brought into her apartment is, primarily because if she doesn't remind her the hammer is certain to leave something in her wake and Azusa can hold onto it for slightly longer than is strictly necessary before mentioning that Marie left it.

Marie is unusually quiet as she works, though it's not from anything Azusa has done. For one, the crossbow has been very careful to do nothing out of the ordinary, but for another Marie's gaze keeps going out of focus as she thinks on whatever is distracting her rather than lingering on her friend.

Azusa has a good guess as to what the problem is. It's the same problem that has been between them since before they met. By rights she should be glad Marie knows now, that things can start to change, but Marie's unrequited crush on her meister has made _Azusa's_ own crush perfectly stable and safe and nonthreatening, and the possible shift of that is unsettling the careful balance of the crossbow's world, and Azusa _hates_ to be unsettled.

When Marie finishes taping up the last box, she doesn't get up from where she's sitting cross-legged on the floor, just rests her hand against the box and stares into space like she's been doing. Azusa gets up without entirely meaning to and covers most of the distance to her, although she doesn't sit and doesn't take her hands out of her pockets.

"It'll get better," she offers. "It's not like you were dating. That should help."

Marie glances up and her and away, and although she smiles it's not exclusively cheerful. "It should. It's just...I've been waiting for him all this time, I guess. I didn't realize that's what I was doing, and it sounds really stupid when I say it out loud, but I don't quite know what to do with myself without this."

"You could keep pining."

Azusa means it to be funny and Marie does laugh, bright and sunny. "Not all that appealing, actually, thanks Azusa." She shakes her hair back and squares her shoulders. "I guess I'll just...recenter."

Azusa offers a hand. Marie takes the support and lets herself be pulled to her feet. Even standing she has to look up at Azusa, but she's looking at the crossbow now instead of whatever nostalgic woe she _was_ seeing,and that's a major improvement.

"Okay." She smiles. "Well, at least I'll be here in Death City with you for a while."

"Until I'm reassigned," Azusa clarifies, and Marie waves a hand. "Until you're reassigned. I'm trying to look on the bright side here, okay?"

Azusa is smiling without meaning to, the way Marie always makes her smile, and then the hammer reaches out with her free hand to rest her fingers against Azusa's shoulder. It is at this point that Azusa realizes she hasn't let go of Marie's hand, that the blond's fingers are burning through her clothes like a brand, and her smile vanishes under the panic that swamps her body.

Marie's expression drops into confusion. "Are you okay?"

She is _not_, not okay in _any_ sense. "Yes." Azusa can hear the shake in her voice even on the one word.

So does Marie. Gold eyebrows draw into a curve of confusion and her head tips. "You sound -"

Azusa's hand is in Marie's hair before she thinks it to turn the hammer's head up, her own head tips in the opposite direction, and she does what she has wanted to do for years and kisses Marie.

Marie doesn't move, doesn't respond or protest or pull away. It's not a long kiss, just a brush of lips against each other, long enough for Azusa's mouth to warm with the other woman's blood and long enough to utterly, eternally destroy her carefully-built pretense of their platonic friendship.

Azusa lets Marie go and pulls back. Her hands drop to her sides, she blinks once, and then she angles her chin up to send the glare of the light off her glasses so Marie can't see her eyes.

"Oh." Marie looks away, down at the front of Azusa's shirt without seeing her, touches her mouth with the tips of her fingers. "Oh." She looks up at the crossbow's face so Azusa can see her eye although her own are hidden.

After a beat it becomes clear Marie won't say anything else, and after another breath Azusa has stabilized her own voice into calm.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." It doesn't sound like a confession at all. It sounds like the fact it is. She opens her mouth to apologize but can't get the words out. They are less true.

Marie's uncovered eye is going wide and filling with pity. Azusa wants to flinch away but she stands still, lets Marie work up to what she needs to say. It will be _better_ this way.

"I'm so sorry," the hammer says around the cover of her fingers. She shakes her head. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry. I didn't - you've only ever been a friend, Azusa, I had _no_ idea."

"I know you didn't,"Azusa says. "I know. It's fine." She swallows, forms her mouth around something that is a plea instead of a fact. It's hard to say it. "Please don't pity me."

Marie nods like she's listening, but her face is still lined with guilt and hurt and Azusa can't look at her. The crossbow backs up a step, swallows, says, "Please," and then turns and doesn't run away, slowly walks to her room and shuts the door and waits until she hears the sound of Marie leaving.

It still feels like running.


	4. Whiskey

Azusa is doing her best to drown her sorrows in paperwork when there is a knock on her front door. She hasn't seen Marie in over a day, since the other weapon let herself out of Azusa's apartment, and that isn't surprising in itself - they've gone days and weeks without talking before - but with the remembered heat of the hammer's mouth lingering on Azusa's lips the silence is foreboding and weighty and something to avoid thinking about. Her attempts are only proving partially successful.

There is _no_ way the knock is Marie at her door, but Azusa still finds herself hoping desperately, walking slower than she needs to to drag out the possibility, and when she does open the door she is disappointed that it's not even more than she is surprised at who it _is._

"Stein." The word is entirely absent any emotional content. "What are you doing here?"

Stein blinks at her and holds up a bottle in his hand. "Comforting."

Azusa looks at the bottle, looks at Stein's face, looks back at the bottle. "Okay, setting aside the most obvious question of why you think I _need_ comforting and my sincere hope that you have purely _platonic_ intentions, why do you think I would _want_ to _see_ you? I don't _like_ you."

Stein doesn't withdraw the offered bottle. "I know. I don't particularly like you either but I think you'd probably appreciate Spirit's company even less. And I _do_ have some personal experience with this situation."

That rings true, from what Azusa has put together between half-formed conversations with Death Scythe and what she has picked up from Stein's expression when he is talking with the other man. Even so, she almost doesn't step aside, but the whiskey looks _much_ more appealing than her paperwork, and Stein seems oddly and entirely sincere, and so she moves.

Stein hands her the bottle and steps past her so she can shut the door. Azusa holds it up, takes in the label as she follows his lead down the hallway. "Where did you _get_ this? I didn't think you were much for, well, alcohol."

"I'm not. Spirit is." Stein says, like that explains everything. "It's his."

"Great. It's your fault if he asks," Azusa groans, but the idea of drinking Death Scythe's whiskey without his permission is amusing in a petty way, and Stein sits down at her table like he's planning on staying for a while. She leaves the bottle on the table and goes to get a pair of glasses.

Stein is rifling through the papers when she comes back and reaches out for a glass without looking up. "This doesn't really help."

"So I'm discovering." Azusa sits down in the opposite chair and reaches to open the bottle. "Years of experience?"

"Yeah." Stein shoves the papers aside with complete disregard for their order or safety and holds out his glass until Azusa pours an inch of liquid into it. "Productive years, but not particularly good for getting over it."

Azusa doesn't know what to make of this utterly unprecedented information from _Stein_ of all people, so she downs her own shot at one go in lieu of answering. She shivers involuntarily at the afterburn. Stein imitates her swallow but not her reaction.

"So." He reaches for the bottle and refills both their cups. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." Azusa is very clear on that. "I don't think you'd be a good therapist even if I did."

"Likely not." Stein smiles lopsided into his glass and Azusa can tell when his eyes go unfocused and soft like he's seeing Death Scythe in the reflection of the liquid. "Though I'm quite skilled at tuning out chatter, if you'd like to ramble."

"Not my style. Thanks." Azusa takes a sip this time instead of a full swallow, lets the flavor flash into heat on her tongue and the back of her mouth. The presence of someone else _is_ a strange comfort, even if it's the last person she expected to be drinking whiskey with at her kitchen table. "This is pretty good. Don't tell Death Scythe I said that."

Stein laughs without looking at her. Azusa is certain she's never seen him laugh so sincerely, certainly not as easily, and the expression goes all the way to his eyes, or maybe starts there and spills out to his mouth. He is happy, truly happy, and she can't even find it in her to be envious.

"What did Spirit ever do to you that got him such a grudge?"

"Who said he did anything to me personally?" Azusa frowns into her cup and takes another sip. "I like him about as much as I like you."

Stein waves a hand like he's dismissing her argument. "I _deserve_ it."

"So does he." Azusa leans back and stabs a finger in Stein's direction. "Just because you're blinded by love doesn't mean he doesn't have faults. The man spent his first decade as a Death Weapon doing his best to sleep with every woman in the City. He's the only _real_ Death Scythe at this point, and he spends half his time wailing about his daughter's resentment for him and another third of what's left falling to pieces under any sort of pressure."

"Do you _know_ he was actually sleeping around while he was married to Kami?" Stein asks.

Azusa opens her mouth to respond and then shuts it, reviews her memory.

"Okay," she admits. "I don't have _personal_ evidence. But he's so _immature_ and he's supposed to be a _Death Scythe_. _Justin_ is more professional than he is and he's seventeen years old."

"You all have your own flaws," Stein points out. "Justin's are different than Spirit's, not absent. Nor are yours or Marie's."

Azusa raises an eyebrow at the meister. "When did you become so perceptive? I thought you didn't care about people beyond locating your next experiment."

"You don't have a monopoly on observation," is all Stein says as he leans in to refill both their empty glasses.

Azusa makes a face at the addition of more liquid. "I'll be properly drunk if I finish that."

"That is the point, I understand." Stein lifts his glass. "It's supposed to be an excellent short-term coping strategy." When Azusa still hesitates, he smirks and says "To Marie."

Azusa groans, shuts her eyes, and mumbles "Marie," in agreement as she raises her glass to clink against Stein's.


	5. Hangover

Azusa is still hungover by the afternoon of the next day. By the time two o'clock arrives she is able to open the curtains and handle the brightness of daylight, but her head is still aching and the idea of food is utterly nauseating. She gets a glass of water and lies flat on the floor with her eyes shut, letting the warmth of the sun filter into her skin as her body slowly rehydrates itself.

_See if I ever drink with Stein again_. He probably isn't even sick today. Of course he probably didn't fall asleep either. _I should have known, really_. What she remembers of the night before isn't that bad - Stein didn't tend towards the chatty drinking that Death Scythe does, at least, so for at least the first few drinks it was almost entirely silent between them. Everything is somewhat hazy after that - Death Scythe came in at one point, then left again - and by the time she woke up from her curl on the couch Stein was gone and the front door was unlocked.

When there is a knock at the door, her first thought is that it is Death Scythe, or maybe Stein himself, back to make sure she isn't actually dead from the night before. She drags herself to her feet and meanders down the hallway, slowly so as not to make her stomach feel worse, and when she opens the door she is expecting red hair or silver or both together. She gets gold.

"Oh." Her stomach flips over and Azusa isn't sure if it's from the hangover or the surprise or the panic. _Then_ she realizes that she looks like she's been lying on the floor all day and very nearly shuts the door in Marie's face. Instead she manages to stay still, keep her face calm, and just tighten her fingers painfully on the edge of the door where Marie can't see. "Good…" she aborts the sentence halfway, corrects for the angle of the sun. "Afternoon."

Marie smiles and Azusa's stomach turns over again. Her smile is like sunshine, bright and shining and warm, and it invariably sends a tingle of heat all across Azusa's skin. Just at the moment that is less than entirely pleasant, but it happens anyway. Azusa thinks it might have been Marie's smile that drew her in first, before the gold in her eye and the curl to her hair and even before her impressive curves. Azusa's eyes skip down, up in time with her thoughts, but her glasses hide the movement of her gaze and she has become very good at keeping a straight face while her mind slides down into fantasy.

"I was worried about you," Marie says. "I heard Stein came over and got you drunk yesterday and that seemed like a terrible idea, at least for your end of it."

"Yes." Azusa adjusts her glasses needlessly, a nervous habit she can't break. "It _was_ a terrible idea."

"Did you want to get some coffee? I hear that helps hangovers, sometimes."

It would be a great idea if walking sounded easier and if Marie didn't persist in her continued reversal of coffee and tea. "Thanks, but I think I should stay at home today. Moving is not particularly pleasant right now."

"Oh." Marie looks down at her hands. "Okay. I...I hope you feel better soon." She brings her head back up, forces a smile, and Azusa's dehydrated brain catches up to the conversation and the disappointment in Marie's voice.

"Wait. Are you asking me out for just _coffee_ or on a _date_?"

Marie turns bright red, color pouring into her face until she looks like she has a very bad sunburn. "Um. B-both?"

"But-you said you weren't interested." That had been the cause of the ill-advised drinking the night before. It had taken two drinks before she could forget the shock and pity in Marie's face, another three before she could shove away the other weapon's guilty apology as she refused.

Marie's color hasn't faded and she's not looking at Azusa's face anymore but down at the toes of her own white boots. "I'm...not sure. I've never dated another woman before but I hadn't thought about it either. It's worth a try, don't you think?"

Azusa should say no. She should say that if Marie's not sure she won't force her, that her best friend should stay her best friend and they can go on as they have and forget her own ill-advised admission. But there is hot adrenaline flowing into her and when she opens her mouth what she actually says is, "Yeah. Okay."

Marie looks up. "Really?"

"Yes. But...not today. It's not my best day by a long short." Azusa tries to remember what her plans are for tomorrow, decides that she can rearrange them entirely if she has to, for this. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure!" Marie bubbles. "I have a class to teach until 11 but I'm free after that."

"I can meet you at the classroom if you'd like," Azusa offers, and Marie is smiling again, tossing her hair back from her face and looking up at the other weapon, and she looks nervous but that _smile_ undoes all the hesitation the nerves bring.

"Great," she says. "Well. I'll...see you tomorrow I guess?"

"Yes," Azusa confirms. "Definitely."

Marie turns to go, and Azusa carefully shuts the door, locks it, and makes her way back to the living room before she lets the adrenaline drop her to the floor.

_I really am going to be sick_. The panic now rising in her stomach is blending with her nausea in the worst way. It's not going to be a pleasant evening.

Azusa can't bring herself to care very much right now.


	6. Lipstick

For the first time in her life, Azusa shows up actively early to an appointment. She knows it only takes ten minutes to get to the Academy from her apartment - she's walked the distance plenty of times, after all - but she leaves at half-past ten, too anxious and nervous to hold still any more. She intends to walk around the city, get some fresh air first, but she feels self-conscious in a skirt instead of pants and less her black jacket, so she ends up outside the door to Marie's classroom with more than a quarter hour to waste.

She ends up leaning against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest, and breathing through her panic. It feels like an infinity, but at least it passes without too much pain, and she spends the eternal wait relatively calm. Then the bell rings, the classroom door opens, and Azusa is back in the present with a painful jolt.

The students flow past her, the first edge turning into a steady flow and back into a trickle until Azusa is sure everyone is gone and there must just be Marie inside the room. She takes a breath, unfolds her arms, and goes to open the door.

There is a moment of shuddering, irrational panic - maybe Marie's out today, maybe Azusa has the wrong classroom, maybe Marie has forgotten - and then the door is open, and Azusa is in the room, and Marie is turning so slowly it must be deliberate and she is wearing _lipstick_, an unnaturally pale pink color that somehow matches the yellow of her hair perfectly, and Azusa is frozen by the realization that _she_ should have put on makeup.

Then Marie completes her movement, and smiles, and she is wearing some ridiculous fluffy bronze sweater and a skirt instead of her usual dress, and it _is_ ridiculous and silly and it is highlighting her hair and clinging to her curves and Azusa very suddenly can't remember how to breathe.

"Oh," Marie says, as breathless as Azusa feels. "Hi. Azusa. You look nice."

"Yeah," Azusa manages by way of acceptance. "You too. You look nice. _Very_ nice."

Marie blushes as bright pink as her lipstick and tips her chin down. "Thank you. Uh."

For a minute they stand there, Azusa in the doorway and Marie still by the desk, and then something clicks over in Azusa's brain, declares _this is absurd_ and claps its hands for action, and Azusa is coming forward with something of her usual stride.

"Shall we go to our regular cafe?" she asks, collecting Marie's bag for her and stacking the loose papers on the desk one-handed before sliding them into the open pocket and handing the bag off to the other weapon. Marie accepts it without complaint, but she's not meeting Azusa's gaze, and unless the floor has become _significantly_ more interesting since the last time Azusa checked it's the effect of nerves.

Azusa clears her throat. "Marie."

There is a pause. Then Marie brings her gaze up to look at the crossbow through her hair.

"It's just me." Azusa reaches out to brush the hammer's hair behind her ear. "Really. Nothing's changed unless you want it to." Another pause in which Marie still doesn't move. "Okay?"

Marie takes an audible breath and reaches up to push her hair back over her shoulder before she breathes out and lifts her chin to smile at Azusa. The expression is still shy and self-conscious, but she's making eye contact again, and that is progress. "Okay."

Usually Marie is the one to fill most of the silence, or at least to give Azusa something to comment on. Today she is unnaturally, uncharacteristically silent, until Azusa's own words try to stick in her throat and close off her voice. Luckily Azusa has never been one to let nerves get the best of her, and she forces her way past the panic or at least through it, and when she talks her voice is level and calm with absolutely no trace of the way her heart is fluttering in her chest.

Marie doesn't really speak until they are at the cafe itself, drinks in hand and seated at their usual table in the corner, and then she braces herself for it, takes such a deep breath Azusa almost laughs before she bites her lips and gets her nervous giggle under control.

"So." Marie tosses her head back in a failed attempt to throw her hair back from her face, takes a sip from the edge of her cup with those coral-pink lips so she leaves a print of her mouth on the white edge. "Have you been pining for me all this time?"

Azusa's eyebrows go up, and when she laughs it is legitimately amused instead of raw with panic and nerves. She leans back in her chair and takes a drink of her own tea.

"Not _pining_, no. I have been perfectly reasonable about my feelings."

Marie tips her head to the left without speaking, silently prompting for an answer rather than a dodge, and Azusa has to smile.

"Most of the time, yeah, but it's been more of a long-term crush than anything else. I dated other people while I was in Asia; I didn't really expect to see you again so soon. And I didn't expect you to reciprocate anyway."

"Well." Marie looks away and down at her cup, reaches out to absently streak the pink on the edge into a smear instead of a pattern. "It seems like the thing to do, moving on, you know? And I - I don't know if I do. It might just be flattery." She smiles without looking up. "I've never been the recipient of a crush before."

"That you knew of. I'm sure you had admirers."

"Well, you've been around longer than any of my other boyfriends." Marie makes a face. "Although I guess you're not a boyfriend. Or wouldn't be. Girlfriend?"

Azusa groans. "You're jumping ahead, Marie. We're on _one_ date. Right now I think we're still just friends."

"Hm." Marie sets her chin on her hand, takes another sip of her coffee. "How many dates before I _could_ call you my girlfriend?"

"Marie." Azusa reaches out to grip the other weapon's shoulder without thinking. "You should probably make sure you're _interested_ first."

Marie heaves a sigh, rolls her eye, and leans over the table to catch her pink lips on Azusa's.

Azusa goes still, too startled to think of a reaction. Marie stays still for a moment before her hand comes up to brush against the crossbow's hair, the contact delicate as the hammer has never been in Azusa's memory. Azusa parts her lips without thinking, physical reaction entirely on autopilot, and Marie does too, barely exhales so Azusa can taste the hammer's coffee rushing over the more delicate flavor of her own tea.

Then Marie pulls back, her lipstick catching their lips together for a moment before the connection breaks, and her hand is back on her side of the table. She tucks her lips against each other like she's trying to fix her lipstick or hold back something, but she is _blushing_, going pink and flushed and that is a _smile_ at the edge of her mouth. Azusa can't speak, can't think straight. She brings her free hand to her lips without thinking, presses the imprint of Marie's mouth into them, and her hand comes away pink too, like Marie is spreading out to stain every part of her.

Her hand is still at Marie's shoulder. She releases her grip, lays her hand flat on the table, and goes on staring at Marie like she's never seen the blonde before.

Marie giggles and lets her lips fall into her usual smile, reaches out to touch her fingertips to Azusa's mouth with that same oddly light touch, and Azusa smiles under the pressure without meaning to.


End file.
